


Three Hearts, Two Spleens

by Nottherealdean



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Body Modification, M/M, Nipple Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-28
Updated: 2015-05-28
Packaged: 2018-04-01 14:45:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4023838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nottherealdean/pseuds/Nottherealdean





	Three Hearts, Two Spleens

Dean slid into a seat at the bar. 

“Hey, Donnie,” he said with a smile when Donnie tossed down a coaster, followed by a beer, in front of him. “You get off soon?”

“Uh-huh, same time as always.” Donnie leaned against the bar top across from Dean. “What’s special about tonight that you’re asking?”

Dean smiled wider. “Nothing.”

“Right. You want something to eat?”

“Nah, I might go take a shower.”

Donnie raised his eyebrows, more amused than annoyed.

“Someone decided to throw me a surprise party.” Dean took a long, slow drink of beer. “I got presents.” 

“Oh.”

“I thought you might want to help me break them in.” Dean enjoyed the amount of suggestive fake innocence he put into his words. 

“You know I have to stay until closing,” Donnie said, lowering his voice. “No matter how much you bat your eyes at me?”

“Yeah, but this makes the end of your shift more fun, doesn’t it?” 

Donnie pretended to scoff at that, but was smiling as he cleared away Dean’s empty. “Maybe,” he conceded, “Though I don’t know what that says about either of us.”

“It says I’ll see you when you get off,” Dean said. He stood, pausing to wink over his shoulder at Donnie before strolling to the door. 

In the parking lot, Dean flicked his eyes black, for the pleasure of it, then teleported himself into Donnie’s house. He left his boots by the front door, then the rest of his clothes tossed half into the laundry hamper. He soaped and rinsed with no hurry as the hot water ran itself out, and managed to still be slightly damp when Donnie made it home.

He listened to the rumble of Donnie’s car, then the sound of the door opening and footsteps—first booted and then barefoot—approaching the bedroom. Donnie stopped in the doorway and Dean opened his eyes. He was lounging on the bed, unselfconsciously enough to have adopted a reclining nude pose, and he watched Donnie’s gaze trail from the bent arm cushioning his head down to his face, hesitating at his chest, then along the curve of his other arm draped across his side to low on his stomach, and finally following his legs to his lazily crossed ankles. 

Donnie crossed the room and circled the end of the bed, brushing his fingers against Dean’s foot and then rested his hand on his ankle as he sat down on the edge of the bed. Dean relaxed flat onto his back, drawing his own hand up along his skin before folding both arms under his neck. 

“Like them?” he teased. 

Donnie smiled and said, “Yeah, I do,” while stroking his finger tips along the sinuous line curving along the outside of Dean’s calf. Donnie traced it up around the top of his knee, where it dipped deeply to the inside of his thigh before snaking around the front of Dean’s hip and then curling toward his chest. He slowed when he reached the new section in the center of Dean’s chest—the grafted-on nipples still showing fading differences in skin color—and skimmed over it: a gentle inflection before coiling into a tight spiral. 

“What are you going to do now?” Donnie asked, starting over at Dean’s ankle, this time with a little more pressure and running the palm of his hand across the nipples. 

“You mean, what am I going to do with you?” Dean shifted his leg slightly, exposing the inside of his thigh more for Donnie’s touch. Donnie leaned over to kiss one of Dean’s original nipples, then the last one in the spiral.

“No, now that you’ve got this part finished. Are you done?” 

“Mmm. I’ve got another leg.” Donnie obligingly started sliding his other hand up it. “Seems a shame not to do it too, when there’s demons practically lining up for me to kill ‘em.” Self-styled rivals and supporters were still coming out the woodwork, despite the mounting bodies of those who thought he gave a damn about Hell’s politics. “Why, you hitting a limit?”

“No,” Donnie said, and twisted around to lift Dean’s calf and begin kissing along the row of nipples. “Definitely—” Donnie reached Dean’s knee and stopped to raise his leg up a little higher and duck under it so he could kiss the ones dotting the inside of Dean’s thigh. “Definitely not,” he finished.

 

 


End file.
